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young couple. He slipped one of them out of the corners that held it. The bride was radiant, the groom a good-looking Mexican, his expression slightly stunned. The bride’s face long, prominent bones, intelligent, Jewish. A good woman, Leaphorn thought. Emma would have liked her. He had two weeks left on his terminal leave. He’d see if he could find her.

THREE
    I T HAD BEEN A BAD DAY for Officer Jim Chee of the Navajo Tribal Police. In fact, it had been the very worst day of an abysmal week.
    It had started going bad sometime Monday. Over the weekend it had dawned upon some dimwit out at the Navajo Tribal Motor Pool that a flatbed trailer was missing. Apparently it had been missing for a considerable time. Sunday night it was reported stolen.
    â€œHow long?” Captain Largo asked at Monday afternoon’s briefing. “Tommy Zah don’t know how long. Nobody knows how long. Nobody seems to remember seeing it since about a month ago. It came in for maintenance. Motor pool garage fixed a bad wheel bearing. Presumably it was then parked out in the lot. But it’s not in the lot now. Therefore it has to be stolen. That’s because it makes Zah look less stupid to declare it stolen. Better’n admitting he just don’t know what the hell they did with it. So we’re supposed to find it for ’em. After whoever took it had time to haul it about as far as Florida.”
    Looking back on it, looking for the reason all of what followed came down on him instead of some other officer on the evening shift, Chee could see it was because he had not been looking alert. The captain had spotted it. In fact, Chee had been guilty of gazing out of the assembly room window. The globe willows that shaded the parking lot of the Shiprock sub agency of the Navajo Tribal Police were full of birds that afternoon. Chee had been watching them, deciding they were finches, thinking what he would say to Janet Pete when he saw her again. Suddenly he became aware that Largo had been talking to him.
    â€œYou see it out there in the parking lot?”
    â€œSir?”
    â€œThe goddam trailer,” Largo said. “It out there?”
    â€œNo sir.”
    â€œYou been paying enough attention to know what trailer we’re talking about?”
    â€œMotor pool trailer,” Chee said, hoping Largo hadn’t changed the subject.
    â€œWonderful,” Largo said, glowering at Chee. “Now from what Superintendent Zah said on the telephone, we’re going to get a memo on this today and the memo is going to say that they called our dispatcher way back sometime and reported pilfering out there at night and asked us to keep an eye on things. Long before they mislaid their trailer, you understand. That’s to cover the superintendent’s ass and make it our fault.”
    Largo exhaled a huge breath and looked at his audience—making sure his night shift understood what their commanding officer was dealing with here.
    â€œNow, just about now,” Largo continued, “they’re starting to count all their stuff out there. Tools. Vehicles. Coke machines. God knows what. And sure as hell they’re going to find other stuff missing. And not know when they lost it, and claim it got stolen five minutes ago. Or tomorrow if that’s handier for ’em. Anyway, it will be at some time after—I repeat, after—we’ve been officially informed and asked to watch out for ’em. And then I’m going to be spending my weekends writing reports to send down to Window Rock.” Largo paused. He looked at Chee.
    â€œSo, Chee…”
    â€œYes sir.” Chee was paying attention now. Too late.
    â€œI want you to keep an eye on that place. Hang around there on your shift. Get past there every chance you get. And make chances. Call the dispatcher to keep it on record that you’re watching. When they finish their inventory and find out they’ve lost other stuff, I